


Returning The Favor (republished)

by donttellmedic



Series: A Collection of Sniper and Spy's Sexcapades [2]
Category: Team Fortress 2
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, M/M, Overstimulation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 01:52:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14226519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/donttellmedic/pseuds/donttellmedic
Summary: The title explains itself





	Returning The Favor (republished)

**Author's Note:**

> howdy fellas, if you want to see what Spy's saying in English, there's a link for it in the end notes  
> Also, HUGE thanks to lechaterrant-thestraycat on tumblr for translating it, and noisykid for editing it (again)

With the help of Medic’s medicine, a day or two passed and Sniper’s sickness was gone. On the third morning, he shuffled into the dining room as per usual, pouring himself a cup of coffee and slinking into his seat between Spy and Demoman. Engie placed a few plates of toast and a large bowl of scrambled eggs for the men to serve themselves with. Each mercenary gave their thanks and dug in, indulging in morning conversation and food.

Someone nudged his side, and Sniper turned to face Spy beside him. Raising an eyebrow, he was about to ask what he wanted before Spy spoke.

“If you aren’t busy later, I’m more than willing to return your favor.”

“What?”

Spy rolled his eyes glanced to the other men around them. “After our shift.”

What favor? What was he be talking abo- wait. Oh yeah. Sniper imagined what Spy had in plan for him with a grin--their nights were always fun-- and resumed his breakfast.

Then there was a bang of a door, and hurried footsteps. All the men simultaneously turned to the door, where Scout stood panting with a large crate in his arms.

“We won’t freeze to death out there, guys! Miss Pauling got us cold-resistant gear!” the runner exclaimed, dumping the crate on the table with a thud. Peering over at the box, Sniper spotted a note on the top scribbled with Miss Pauling’s signature.

“I’m pretty sure she got all our sizes right,” Scout added, tugging at the edges of the top, “If I can even get this freakin’ thing open.”

Sniper exchanged curious glances with his teammates as Heavy stepped in to aid the Scout, lifting the top with an effortless tug. In the crate were boots, gloves, jackets, and pants that fit each mercenary perfectly. With these clothes and a newly bought bomber cap, Sniper hopefully wouldn’t be frozen on the battlefield.

-

Later, after hours of fighting in the frigid cold, Sniper walks through the halls to the showers with a towel. There was the all-familiar sound of Spy decloaking behind him, grabbing him by the shoulder to turn him around.

“You should prepare yourself, Mick.”

“...my room?”

“Oui. An hour after dinner.”

“See you then, Spook.” He said with a chuckle. Spy nodded with a wink and walked off in the opposite direction.

Sniper grins to himself and continues heading to the showers. He doesn’t have anything planned that evening, but now there was something fun to look forward to. 

-

 

“Dieu que tu es beau,” he mutters, peppering Sniper’s neck with kisses. 

Placing a sloppy smooch on the skin just below his collar, Spy nips and sucks while trailing a hand just above his hip.

“You know I don’t understand what you’re sayin, Spook.”

“But you love it.”

Spy returns to sucking at his tanned flesh. Sniper can feel his breath quicken and tries his hardest not to squirm or roll his hips. Spy’s breath is too hot and the wanker is smirking. 

Sniper tries to take a deep breath just to even his breathing, but his voice quirks and it sounds too much like a whine. He lets his head fall back, exposing more of his neck as Spy grins against his skin. The hand on Sniper’s hip inches lower and lower, fingers gripping the waistband of his pants. Sniper’s toes clench with anticipation, and as he reaches to Spy’s hand to urge him further, the masked rogue grabs his wrist. Before he could question it, Spy spoke again.

“Eager, oui? Last time was your turn to play, and now it is mine. I am returning the favor after all.” Spy’s voice vibrates against his skin, deep and alluring and dangerous.

Sniper groans in response, his breath fluttering in arousal and excitement. Spy never ceased to arouse him, with his hands, his voice, his body… 

“Je vais te baiser déraisonnablement. Si impitoyablement que tu sera réduit à une flaque de gémissement cramponnée aux draps.” Spy growls into this ear, making shivers run down Sniper’s spine and coil in his abdomen. 

The man on top of him sat up for a moment to admire his work with a devious smile. Their eyes meet, and Sniper watches the rogue’s pupils grow larger with lust. Raising a hand to his mouth, he pulls off his leather glove with one swift tug and tosses it aside.

It was only when his other glove came off did Spy roll his hips into Sniper’s groin, giving the sharpshooter the friction he craved. A breathy sigh leaks from Spy’s mouth, swiftly leaning back in to press their lips together. He wasn’t gentle or rough, as usual. The way he kissed Sniper was always somewhere in-between. Hungry. Craving.

The rogue bites his bottom lip as they part, rolling his hips another time. The smell of his aftershave is intoxicating. The feeling of his skin on Sniper’s is heady. “J’adore te voir ainsi,” he breathes. “Je peux déjà te sentir palpiter dans ton pantalon. Tu me fais bander.”

Fuck, that was hot. Sniper gulps, daring to lightly thrust his hips up into Spy, hands ghosting over his slim thighs. “Let me- can I touch you?” he stutters, internally cursing himself for his shaky breathing.

Spy’s response is a breathy growl, placing his hand over Sniper’s and grinding his hips down again. 

Okay, this was good. He drags his hand up and down the frenchman’s waist, feeling the warmth and wanting to feel the skin underneath. He tugs at the fabric, eyes flicking up to Spy’s again. In a moment Spy’s pinstripe jacket was shrugged off and tossed somewhere, and Sniper raises his hands to start unbuttoning his off-white dress shirt.

Interrupting Sniper, Spy grabs the hem of his shirt to wrench it up and off, pulling off his own shirt before diving in for another kiss. Those ungloved hands felt Sniper’s chest, lightly squeezing his nipples and softly scratching down his stomach to make him shiver. 

Sniper’s own hands trail down to Spy’s trousers to grope and squeeze his ass. Sniper was rewarded with a shaky exhale that makes him realize how hard Spy was trying to contain himself-- and that thought alone made his cock twitch again.

“Bordel. Est-ce que tu as une seule idée de ce que tu me fais?” the frenchman whispered, finally reaching for Sniper’s fly. Sniper felt glad he didn’t wear underwear today, because once Spy tugs his trousers down his cock sprung free. 

Spy smirks. “Tu me rends fou, Mick,” he growls.

Spy scootches down to pull off his own pinstripe trousers, the obscene tent in his shorts much more noticable. His member juts out, slightly stained with precum. He palms the front of his crotch as he reaches over to the bedside table, grabbing a small tube of vaseline. Pulling Sniper’s knees apart, he situates himself between his thighs.

Reaching up again, Spy gives Sniper a quick peck on the lips before trailing back down to his cock. He licks his lips and smiles, licking a stripe up his shaft and giving his head a sloppy kiss.

“Turn over.”

Internally cursing Spy, he did what he was told to make it easier for them both. Behind him Spy opens the tube, smearing a generous amount on his fingers.

“Ready?” Spy murmurs, teasing a single digit around his ring of muscle. A nod of Sniper’s head was all he needed to stop his probing and push until it gave away, sinking inside the sharpshooter without much resistance. 

Sniper concentrates on the steadiness of his breath and relaxing the muscles in his lower half as Spy’s finger sunk to his second knuckle, carefully pressing against his walls and warming him up. At this point, Sniper barely tries to restrain his voice, because frankly it was wearing him out. Spy pushes in another finger, stretching and exploring his hole while his other hand rubbed his hip gently.

“Spy, f-fuck… mmm,” he chokes out, a delightful pleasure radiating in his pelvis. His head fell back into the pillows, eyes closed shut. It had been a while since Spy had fucked him, and Sniper could never remember exactly how good it felt. He’d been fucked before meeting Spy, of course, but it wasn’t half as good as this. 

Spy responds with his own groan, working his fingers in and out of Sniper. “Mon Dieu, tu es si bon,” he pants,

“God, Spy, I..” he whines, hands twisting in the sheets. “Just… please.” He tries moving his hips, but Spy’s hand keeps him pinned.

“Oh putain,” Spy moans, and his fingers quicken. “J'aime quand tu mendier pour moi.”

Sniper growls and turns his head to look Spy in the eyes. “Spy. Come on,” he pleads with a clench of his ass. 

“Bien.”

And suddenly those fingers were gone, and wrapped around his long-forgotten prick. Sniper watches as Spy peels off his underwear with a sigh and move to align their hips. His breath quickens with anticipation, the thudding of his heart much more apparent. The tip of Spy’s cock is slick and smooth, slipping partway inside Sniper without much effort. With a groan Spy pulled out and sunk back in a little further. He repeated that gesture a few times, going deeper until Sniper could feel the wiry hair above Spy’s member brush against his ass.

Neither of the men’s pricks were too large or too small-- and although Sniper was a tad thicker, Spy fit inside him just right. His walls quivered, prompting a moan and curse from the masked man.

Soon enough Spy pulled back to rock his hips into Sniper, who shoved an arm under his pillow to better position himself. He set to an agonizingly slow pace, with gentle thrusts and soft grunts. Sniper pulled Spy’s arm down for an eager kiss to get his message across.

“Don’t hold back.”

Spy didn’t. His leisurely thrusts quickened in a matter of moments, hands gripping his hips and pounding the words out of the Australian. Sniper couldn’t do much besides grab at the sheets and let out a series of whimpers and gasps, clenching and unclenching almost desperately around Spy in his assault.

Spy groaned along with Sniper, but a distinct whimper from the frenchman and he was empty and being turned on his back again. Before he could say anything, though, Spy was inside him with the same vigorous pace.

“Je veux voir ton visage quand je te baise,” Spy rasped, grunting with every other thrust.

Sniper found it difficult to not kiss Spy. It felt like he’d been starved of him for years-- and Spy looked absolutely ravished. His skin was sticky with sweat and his arms quivered lightly, his eyebrows screwed and lips drawn in bliss. Locks of dark hair peeked from under his mask and plastered his forehead, doing wonders to his disheveled look.

So, the sharpshooter lurched forward to drape an arm around Spy and pull him forward, kissing him so hungrily it was surreal. He drank in the gasps and sounds of ecstasy pouring from Spy, allowing his own to be consumed.

Suddenly he was closer to the edge than he’d expected. Thighs trembling and cock straining, he panted into Spy’s neck as the masked man kept at his vigorous pace. His hand grasped Sniper’s member, quickly pumping him further to the edge.

“Spy, Spy,” was all Sniper could sob, desperately scraping his fingers into Spy’s back. Spy responded with a breathy groan of his own as he thrusted exceptionally harder, shuddering at the contracting muscles around his cock.

“Je vais, ve vais--”

A broken gasp punched his way from his chest as Sniper came, body tighter than a bowstring, surges of pleasure crashing like waves through his body. It was indescribably blissful. As he jolted and convulsed Spy tensed and reached his peak, spilling himself inside Sniper.

As the pleasure wore off, Spy slipped out of Sniper and slumped beside him, one arm slung over him in a lazy embrace. For minutes they lie like that, calming their breathing and basking in the warmth of each other's afterglow.

“How was I?”

Sniper was without words. “You were… amazing.” Spy hummed happily, tracing patterns over Sniper’s shoulder.

“You’re still hard.”

“Wait, what?” He perked his head up. “Shit, sorry Spook. I’ll roll over.”

“No need,” the frenchman purred with a smirk. 

“God, Spy..” he mumbles, letting his head fall back.

Sniper listens to the rustling of sheets and the opening of the tube. Seconds later Spy groans, and when Sniper raises his head Spy’s hovering over his still-hard cock with two fingers buried inside himself.

Wow, okay. That was really hot. Their eyes meet again and Sniper collapses back on his pillow with a grunt, hands moving to Spy’s thighs to help steady the masked man.

Sniper’s member twitches and brushes against Spy’s ass, eliciting a whimper from the masked man. Sniper reaches for Spy’s semi-hard member, twisting his wrist and rubbing his thumb over his head. 

Spy bucks his hips, twisting his fingers and planting a hand on Sniper’s abdomen to steady himself. With a sigh he guides Sniper’s cock to his entrance, teasing his head before sinking down. A single push and his cock is entirely engulfed in Spy’s hot, tight heat. 

Spy relaxes his muscles and rocks his hips back and forth to get used to the feeling, leaning down for another kiss. Sniper winces, a sort of pricking feeling washing over his member from overstimulation. His grip on Spy tightens, who shifts forward to prop an arm against the headboard and lift his hips to drop them down again.

Their pace wasn’t as fast or nearly as rough as it was a few minutes ago, but just as enjoyable. Spy lazily kisses and bites the flesh above his clavicle with soft moans, sending zings of arousal to his cock. Trailing his hands down the length of Spy’s spine, he grabs a handful of his ass to pull him down harder and thrust up to Spy, who keened and clenched around his member.

“C'est tellement énorme,” Spy hisses. “Tellement parfait.”

He’s close again. The hot breaths against his skin and the tightness of Spy’s fingers around his arm sends him hurtling over the edge, thrusting his hips up as pleasure zipped through his cock. Spy’s voice picks up as Sniper tugs at his prick and thrusts his hips down faster. Seconds later he cums with a sob, muscles contracting and ribbons of cum shooting into Sniper’s hand.

With an exhausted sigh Spy lifts himself from Sniper’s spent cock and slumps on top of him again. Sniper reaches over to grab his shirt and wipes them both off, too exhausted to properly clean up. He brushes his thumb over Spy’s forehead to wipe off a few stray drops of sweat.

“That was aces, darl.”

“I’m glad you liked it, bushman.” Spy smiles contentedly. 

They shared a moment of comfortable silence. “Do ya think we could do more of these ‘favors?’” Sniper asks jokingly.

He laughs, and it’s a joyful, blissful thing. “Je pense être tombé amoureux de toi.”

**Author's Note:**

> https://pastebin.com/raw/RpfmtNsn


End file.
